


lethal.

by seekrest



Series: febuwhump 2020. [21]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker’s overwhelming guilt complex™️
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22833349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: “But you didn’t.” She whispers back, pressing her forehead to his. “We’re going to be okay.”Peter just squeezes her hand, closing his eyes as their foreheads rest against each other’s - letting the moment settle over his heart.Michelle’s voice cuts through the darkness once more, a pang running through him again at the truth of her words.“But if we don’t figure this out, Pete, I’m worried you won’t be.”
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: febuwhump 2020. [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619581
Comments: 26
Kudos: 96





	lethal.

_ “Peter. Peter, save us. Please. Please, we need--” Michelle’s voice is immediately cut off, Peter wanting to move but feeling incapable - frozen in place as he struggles to move his limbs.  _

_ He’s held down, completely incapable of moving forward - trying and failing to move his arms, his legs, anything to get him out of the vise grip that’s all around him.  _

_ “MJ! MJ, hold on. I’m coming, I’m--” _

_ “Daddy?”  _

_ Peter’s stomach drops, turning to where he hears his son’s voice - not seeing him anywhere as Michelle disappears right in front of him, his panic only increasing at the realization that he couldn’t save either of them. _

_ “You’re too late.” A voice rings out in the darkness, Peter feeling his heart begin to race even more so when he recognizes it - his chest heaving as he struggles in vain to move from where he is.  _

_ “Ben? Ben, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  _

_ “It’s too late.” His uncle’s voice rings out, mixed in the agonized scream of his son - Peter using all his strength to try and move.  _

_ “Ben! Ben, I’m coming!” Peter yells, feeling like he’s being split in two. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. He can’t even think - wrestling with the weight of his guilt and anxiety that’s churning in his gut, feeling the tears starting to form in his eyes as Michelle’s voice starts to ring out through the air too.  _

_ “Please. Please stop. Please stop.” Peter begs, to anyone who will listen - struggling as hard as he can, knowing it’s impossible. Knowing it’s too late. Knowing that he’ll be forever haunted by the people he loved that he failed.  _

_ It’s what he deserves, it’s a feature of the universe - Peter Parker and his bad luck, forever unable to protect anyone he loved for long.  _

Peter immediately wakes up with a start, his heart beating so fast that it feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest - turning so fast in bed only for his anxiety to begin to settle once he sees her, Michelle asleep beside him. 

Peter tries to control his breathing, closing his eyes as he breathes - in and out - gently moving away the covers as he makes his way out of their bedroom.

He could hear all the way to Harlem if he wanted, had no problem hearing Ben’s steady heartbeat in the other room.

But Peter had to see him, had to see with his own two eyes that he was safe - quietly walking down the hall and into his bedroom, gently nudging the door open. 

The anxiety that feels like it’s clenched tight around his heart isn’t quelled with Ben’s peaceful and sleeping form, only furthering the feeling of something being wrong in the background - wondering if his spider senses were acting in overdrive because of how badly he’d messed up, how  _ close _ he had been to losing them - half-believing the nightmare had been less a result of his stress and more of a warning. 

Peter dismisses it immediately, knowing that’s ridiculous but finding that he’s unable to - his hands beginning to shake as he looks on over Ben - taking the few steps he needed to leave his bedroom and head back to the living room. 

When he’s there, Peter’s unsure of what to do with himself - unsure of what his plan even should be, fingers steadily tapping against his thigh until he finally sits - moving one of their chairs so that he’s facing the door, poised and ready for any sign of danger.

A small part of Peter recognizes that he’s being ridiculous, knowing that a more productive use for his anxiousness would be to suit up and head out into the city - even if he and Michelle had already talked about that plenty of times before, the reality that Peter could not continue to push away his trauma in favor of saving others. 

Tony had even mentioned it, the few weeks since his apartment had been broken being some of the worst of Peter’s life.

He didn’t sleep - he couldn’t, not well - not just because of the nightmares he had but because he couldn’t even trust himself to know if something was going to happen to his family, couldn’t believe that the sense that had kept him safe all these years wasn’t extended to the people he loved. 

Peter didn’t talk much about the reason why he put on the mask, why he started out as Spider-Man in the first place. For all the good he’s done, for all the lives he’s saved - Peter is always reminded that one of the biggest responsibilities he has in the world was first born out of his own selfishness. 

_ In. Out. In. Out.  _

Peter tries to keep breathing steadily, eyes focused on the door - drowning out the sounds around him as his mind begins to drift, thinking back to that awful night.

He’d been so focused on the suit, so focused on fixing it at home rather than saving it for a fix in the lab like he usually did - so convinced that it would only take a few minutes. 

A few minutes is all it took for Peter’s world to be threatened, the frantic ride to the medical bay that Michelle had insisted they hadn’t needed - the call to Tony and subsequent call to May, guilty about the reality of what he had almost caused. 

The guy who had broken in had been arrested, Peter never being more thankful that Tony seemingly had the presence of mind to check in after that while Peter was preoccupied with Michelle and Ben - knowing in his gut that he couldn’t trust himself to do it.

Peter hadn’t felt murderous than he had in that moment, only to feel the guilt later - not for the thought of wanting to kill him, but feeling guilty for  _ not _ feeling guilty about it. 

But it was still there, the anxiety crawling down his spine - the agony and reality that he’d come so  _ close _ to the people he loved dying, again - his selfishness seemingly being innate.

His spidey-sense, Peter Tingle, whatever the hell it was supposed to be - it was supposed to warn him about danger, supposed to tell him immediately that something was wrong. 

And yet for reasons completely unknown to him, it hadn’t - Peter letting the horror settle over him that for all his ideals of wanting to protect the city, that even his spider powers had manifested in the most selfish way possible - penance for how his journey as a hero had really begun.

He’s so focused on the door, so focused on his spiraling thoughts that he doesn’t even hear her at first - only noticing when she walks into the living room, a concerned look on her face that immediately makes Peter sit up.

“MJ? You okay? Are you--”

“Peter, what are you doing?” She whispers, Peter unsure of how to answer in a way that didn’t make him sound paranoid. 

“I’m,” Peter’s mind races, hands still shaking as he says, “I’m just-- I just needed time to think. Time to--”

“It’s 2am, Pete.” She says gently, Peter recognizing from the look on her face that she didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Did you have another one?”

Peter considers lying for a half-beat but is simultaneously too exhausted and wired to do so, nodding his head as his fingers thrum against his thigh once more. 

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

Michelle considers him for a moment before walking forward, Peter immediately bringing his arms around her. 

She presses her forehead against his, resting her arms around his torso - Peter closing his eyes as he focused on the beating of heart, something that had grounded him for years. 

Yet even the familiar rhythm of her heart isn’t enough, Peter feeling the adrenaline still shooting through him as he tried to keep himself in the moment - sensing the shift from Michelle when she leans her head back, eyes searching his face. 

He just stares into her eyes, saying nothing - even if everything is right on the tip of his tongue, words that he knows that she won’t accept. 

That he’s sorry for failing her, sorry that his powers are so selfish that they can’t even extend to his own family, sorry that he had ever put her in a position where she had to defend their son when that was Peter’s job. 

He knows she won’t accept it, not out of malice but because she would recognize it for what it is - something even Peter in his own spiral can tangibly recognize - anxiety manifesting itself in a way that articulated his worst thoughts and fears. 

But knowing these things and being able to reconcile them proved to be almost impossible for Peter, biting his lip as Michelle sighs - gentle and quiet as she brings a hand up to his face. 

“Peter, you can’t keep doing this.”

“I can’t  _ stop _ , MJ. I can’t--”

“You  _ can _ . Look at me,” she brings another hand to his face, cradling his head in her hands as her face goes firm. 

“You cannot keep doing this. You cannot keep blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.” 

“MJ…” Peter begins, closing his eyes only for Michelle to gently press her hands firmer on his cheeks - Peter opening his eyes again as she shakes her head.

“No. I know this isn’t something you can control, Pete. I know it.” She seems to consider her next words for a moment, gently running her thumb across his cheek before saying, “I think we should look into therapy.”

“MJ,” Peter sighs, bringing his head out of her hands as he takes a step back - catching the look of hurt on her face before it turns into determination as he says, “We talked about this. I’m f--”

“Don’t you dare say you’re  _ fine _ , Pete.” Michelle says, her voice a sharp whisper cutting through the dark. “You’re not. I know it. May and Tony know it.” 

She shakes her head, Peter watching as she pinches the bridge of her nose before bringing it down, looking him straight into his eyes. 

“I love you, Peter. We all love you. But you cannot keep holding this burden on your chest. You cannot keep acting like you’re alone.”

“I don’t think I’m alone, MJ.” Peter whispers, running a hand through his hair. “I know I’m not. I just,” he chews the inside of his cheek. “I’m supposed to  _ protect _ you.” 

“And you did. You do.” Michelle says, taking a step forward. “You protect the whole damn city.” 

_ The city doesn’t matter if I lose you _ , Peter thinks but doesn’t say - getting the sense that Michelle somehow heard him anyway as she tilts her head. “But it’s my job to protect  _ you _ too. Just like May, just like Tony.

He takes a moment before saying, “I could’ve lost you. I could’ve lost Ben.” Peter whispers, his voice cracking as he says it - Michelle immediately closing the distance and taking his hand.

“But you didn’t.” She whispers back, pressing her forehead to his. “We’re going to be okay.” 

Peter just squeezes her hand, closing his eyes as their foreheads rest against each other’s - letting the moment settle over his heart. 

Michelle’s voice cuts through the darkness once more, a pang running through him again at the truth of her words. 

“But if we don’t figure this out, Pete, I’m worried  _ you _ won’t be.” 

Peter blinks then lifts his head up, watching as her eyes bore into his. 

He knows she’s right, just as he knew that Tony was on the night of the break-in - even if the reality of it was still hard to swallow. 

Peter had always shoved off the idea of therapy, even after Tony had graciously offered it after the Blip. 

For all of Tony’s resources, there was a part of Peter that felt terrified at the possibility of his identity being exposed, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to truly walk in and receive the therapy he knew he needed without telling the whole truth about what it was that he faced. 

It was also irrational, knowing that even if it wasn’t a random therapist that he could probably call Sam - his own anxiety giving him excuses for seeking help in a way deep down, he knew he needed. 

But Peter doesn’t respond in the moment, not trusting his emotions or the way his anxiety continues to lie to him - recognizing the truth and the wisdom of what Michelle was saying. 

It was something that May had worried over as he’d grown up, something that Tony had explicitly said in so many words - that if Peter didn’t take better care of himself, physically as well as emotionally, that he was hurting himself in the long run.

Peter just nods, squeezing her hand once more - Michelle taking it as the affirmation that it was. 

Peter knew he needed help, knew he couldn’t keep doing this alone - making a mental note to call Tony in the morning. 

For now, he lets himself stare into his wife’s eyes - holding her hand and hearing her steady heartbeat, wanting to believe that everything would be okay. 

* * *

Peter’s swinging through the air, the low hum buzzing in the back of his mind. 

He’d promised Michelle that he would call Tony or Sam, would try and figure out how to put a handle on the anxiety that made it impossible for his hands to shake - for the nervous energy that radiated off of him anytime he was home, constantly thrumming his fingers against any flat surface and bouncing his leg up and down. 

But he didn’t, ignoring it as a moment of weakness - the resolve crumbling with the new day. 

Peter knew it was bad, knew that this incident with the intruder had only been the igniting incident for a feeling that he had buried inside himself for years. 

He knows this, he knows it all rationally but he can’t get out from under it - the only sense of relief he has in trying to push it out of his mind being in the suit and swinging around the city, throwing himself full force into being Spider-Man.

The guilt was crushing, not even being able to enjoy the time he had at home with Michelle and Ben - ignoring Tony’s calls about coming over dinner over and over again.

Peter knew it was a matter of time before he and Michelle staged an intervention, hating that they’d likely loop May into it if they hadn’t already. But Peter couldn’t stop -  _ he couldn’t stop _ \- the fact that his sense had failed him when he needed them most eating him alive. 

He hears a cry coming from an alley and immediately adjust his momentum to swing towards it, heart racing like it had in college when he pulled an overnighter and drank three Monsters consecutively - the sharp rush of terror shooting straight to his heart.

Peter hadn’t felt this nervous about being Spider-Man since the first few days that he’d gotten his powers, days before his selfishness had manifested so viscertally that it had led to the death of his uncle. 

He swallows that down and pushes it away, seeing a man punching another - acting on pure instinct as Peter swings forward. 

Rationally, logically - Peter knows what to do. He’s stopped countless muggings, beatings and so much more over the years to the point that it was second nature.

But he’s running on a different sense of self now, so panic driven when he sees the baseball bat the man reaches for - the image that he’d created of Michelle trying to fight off the intruder into their bedroom rushing forward to the front of his mind, any sense of reason immediately leaving him as he lands.

Peter doesn’t even hesitate, knocking the guy with the bat in his hand so hard that he hears a loud  _ crack _ \- the man flying across the alley as Peter’s chest heaves, hands tightly curled into fists and crouched in a defensive position.

His heart is hammering in his ears, Karen’s voice ringing in the background but Peter doesn’t hear it - suddenly feeling like he has tunnel vision as he glances back to the man who had beaten, seeing the fears in his eyes.

Peter immediately goes to step forward only for the man on the ground to try and get away from him, Peter’s heart skipping a beat when he realizes that the man wasn’t scared because of his attacker. 

He was scared of  _ him _ \- the look of fear on his face mirroring what Ben’s face had been that awful night causing Peter’s throat start to close.

Peter immediately backs away, hands up as he hurriedly whispers, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

His stomach drops when he turns back to look to where the attacker had been, terrified that he’d made an even more terrible mistake than he had in a dark alleyway all those years ago - if  _ he _ had been the one who’d ended a life not by his inaction, but intentionally.

The world starts to feel like it’s closing in on him, backing away until his back is against the wall - the cool feel of the brick behind him only causing him to shiver, unaware of where the sobs had come from as his whole body starts to shake.

Peter glances down at his hands, hearing Karen’s voice saying something in the background but he can’t focus on anything - nothing but the reality that he’d failed again, that he was a murderer, that the universe was proving to him time and time again that this was his fault. 

He sinks down to the floor, eyes still focused on his gloved hands as his chest starts to rise and fall too fast, no Tony or Michelle to ground him - trying and failing to take deep, gulping breaths as he pushes his head back - putting his hands to the ground as he tries to gain some level of control.

“Karen--” He says, sharp words inbetween gasps, “Karen, call the cops.”

Her voice sounds like it’s underwater, sifting in through the roar in Peter’s ears as she says, “Already done, Peter. ETA is three minutes.”

“Is…” Peter begins to ask, only to shake his head - hearing the rapid heartbeat of the guy in front of him and the slow one of the man he’d knocked around, a minor relief that he was alive only for Peter to wonder for how slow his heartbeat he was how long he would be.

Peter finds that he can’t handle it anymore, rushing forward to stand only to feel dizzy - hands still shaking before he glances to the man in front of him - the terrified expression still written all over his face.

Peter wants to say something, wants to do something - but doesn’t, sending a hand out and swinging away. 

* * *

Peter’s curled up in a ball, slipped in through the window of the guest bedroom in May and Happy’s apartment - suit on but mask off as he rocks back and forth. He’s seen and ignored the calls that he’s gotten from both Tony and Michelle, unable to face either of them right now in the midst of his overwhelming anxiety and guilt. 

He can hear the door open, can immediately smell the perfume she’s worn all his life but Peter still feels surprised when he finally sees her - May crouched down in front of him with the same expression on her face that she had the night that Ben died, love and concern all mixed together.

“Pete, it’s me. Can I sit with you?” May asks, Peter giving an imperceptible nod as he brings his hands tighter around his knees, feeling less like the thirty-one year old he was and more like the fourteen-year old he had been.

It was embarrassing, foolish and embarrassing for him to be acting like this. He was a husband, a father - he’d been Spider-Man for almost two decades. He shouldn’t be like this, he shouldn’t be--

“Peter, are you with me?” May’s gentle voice cuts through the static, glancing back up at her as she stares into his eyes - a hand extended as if to ask permission.

“May I?” She asks, Peter nodding again as she rests her hand on his knee - the gentleness of her touch causing him to shudder as she smiles.

“Peter--”

“I think I killed someone.” He whispers, searching her face for… something. Pity. Anger. Anything to justify how terrible he feels at the moment.

He doesn’t find it, May’s head tilting before she shakes her head. “You didn’t.”

“May--”

“Tony called. He’s in the ICU.” The guilt leaps up to his throat, Peter closing his eyes as she says, “But you didn’t kill him, Peter. You didn’t do that on purpose.” 

“I did.” Peter answers, opening his eyes again even his vision is blurry - May bringing a hand to his face as he says, “I wanted-- I could’ve killed him, easily.  _ Easy _ , May. I didn’t even-- I could’ve--”

“Peter, I need you to listen to me.” May says, adjusting herself so both hands cradled his face - forcing him to look at her as her thumb runs across his face.

“You  _ didn’t _ . You didn’t kill that man.”

“I almost did. He’s— he’s in the ICU. What if I  _ wanted _ to?” Peter whispers, feeling like something was shattering on the inside of him - not even believing the words he’s saying but a voice in the back of his mind saying that he should - that it’s what he deserves, that his mind is incapable of being trusted. 

He can’t trust his senses. How can he trust himself?

May shakes her head. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“May--”

“Your mind is working against you right now, Peter. I know it, just as sure as I know anything.” Her voice is gentle yet firm, getting closer to his face. 

“You can’t know that.” Peter says, May just shaking her head even more.

“I can and I do. Peter, you know this isn’t your fault.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Peter whispers, only for May’s hand to gently rest on his arm again.

“Because it’s true. Peter, do you really believe that you wanted to kill that man? Do you truly believe that you would do anything to put Michelle or Ben in danger?”

Peter’s first immediate answer is yes, the truth of what had happened screaming at him - but he stops himself, feeling in the back of his mind that May is right - just as Tony and Michelle had been. 

Peter doesn’t answer, May taking that as a sign to continue.

“I see this a lot now, still - at the shelter.” She says gently, moving her hand so it brushes some hair off his forehead - an act she’s done countless times to soothe him when he was young.

Peter shudders under her touch now but May’s voice is soft and low, her hands still gently rifling through his hair as she says, “You’ve always been so strong, so  _ good _ that I think I— we all didn’t see it. We should’ve and I’m sorry, Pete.”

“Sorry for what?” Peter asks, his voice thick as a tear escapes.

“That we didn’t see how much you’re hurting.” May’s voice breaks, Peter feeling even worse as she shakes her head again. “And that’s not on you, that’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault.” Peter immediately answers, only for May to look meaningfully at him.

“It’s not yours.” 

Something locks into place then for Peter, staring at her - seeing the guilt he feels mirrored in her eyes, taking as deep of a breath as he can.

It wasn’t May’s fault that she didn’t know how about the fear that had kept him up at night. Wasn’t May’s fault that he had never truly forgiven himself for what happened when Ben died.

If it wasn’t her fault, maybe there was some truth to the idea that it wasn’t his fault either - even if a voice in the back of his mind told him differently, trying as hard as he can to keep himself grounded in the moment as he searches her face. 

“I think— I think I need help.” Peter finally says, May nodding with a tearful smile. 

“Okay, Pete. We can figure it out.” 

Peter’s jaw trembles but he says nothing, feeling much younger and much older at the same time as he stares into May’s eyes.

There was still a ringing in the back of his mind, still a recognition that this wasn’t the end.

That the temptation to shove it under the rug again would come back harder than ever when it actually came time to it, that he already dreaded the looks on Tony and Michelle’s face when he admitted what he’d done - even if a small part of him whispered that neither would respond the way that he thinks they would.

Peter just holds his tongue and focuses instead on his breathing -  _ in and out _ \- as he takes May’s hand.

This wasn’t the end, Peter could feel it - something that he could trust more than even his spider-sense.

It was a beginning. 

**Author's Note:**

> Brace yourselves for tomorrow. We’re kicking off the last week of febuwhump with a bang.


End file.
